Auntie Betty’s rissoles and other culinary exploits

While my great grandparents were away on their second honeymoon in the 1920s, their second daughter Betty Jollyman wrote regularly to give updates on how their four children were looking after the house and garden in Billericay, Essex. It was hard work, starting at 6am to feed all the hens and ducks they owned, as they earned an income selling the eggs. Here she’s describing her attempts at cooking for the family:

I must tell you about our dinner today. I made (or decided to make) rissoles. So out came the end of the joint and I minced that without a mishap (i.e. cat) then, true to my inherited instinct, I turned to the larder to see what I could shove in.

In went the end of the mint sauce – the end of the gravy – and – “why not?” thought I, as my eye alighted on the dish of cold greens